Unicorns Don't Have Laps
by MorchellaElata
Summary: A special day for Santana and Brittany


Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Glee. Also, this is my first real stab at fanfic.  
>Note: Thanks to Jaylie12 and SunnyInOregon for inspiring me to start and giving me helpful feedback. Additional feedback is always appreciated!<p>

Santana sat upright at the foot of Brittany's bed. Inside she was coiled up, ready to leap into action, but had been sitting completely still for over an hour. Watching Brittany was a form of meditation for her. Brittany was splayed across the queen-size bed, twitching every so often. Her nighttime fidgeting regularly pushed Santana to the edge of the bed. While Brittany seemed comatose throughout any noise when she slept, Santana awoke at the slightest movement. She was used to waking up in the middle of the night and taking her spot as a vigilant protector on the bottom corner of Brittany's bed.

Another half hour passed as Santana gazed at Brittany's twitching sleeping form. Though she didn't completely relax, she felt much calmer. It was as good as sleep for her. When she heard the first birds chirping to welcome the coming dawn, she rolled her eyes and scowled.

"Oh, screw you," she muttered at the birds outside. "Just because your lives are short and meaningless doesn't mean you have to punish us." She walked to the window and glared around. All she could see were bare trees with a thick coat of frost.

Walking back to the bed, she scooted Brittany over to make room, then wrapped herself around the sleeping girl. Arms around her shoulders, face nuzzled into her neck, Santana felt herself weaken. She felt the tears push their way through. Once they escaped from the corners of her eyes, they excitedly told all their friends about the victory, and soon she was weeping intensely without making a sound.

"It's going to be okay," Brittany said suddenly. Santana squeezed her more tightly and sniffled, regaining control of her tears. "Most cases of cat mange resolve themselves spontaneously."

Lifting her head up, Santana saw that Brittany's eyelids were fluttering drowsily – that state of not quite awake but not quite asleep. "Britt," she said, "wake up."

Brittany's eyes flashed all the way open. She looked at Santana with a smile. "Hey pretty. I'm alive." Santana snuggled in closer.

...

"Sorry, but I need to stop by the hammer store," explained Brittany. "And then I have to do some stuff. So I can't make it to Breadstix tonight."

Santana looked away with dismay. "Britt, are you sure to have to do it tonight? I really wanted to go out…"

"I know, but… It's important presidential business. I'm not even allowed to tell you what it is. I shouldn't be telling you this right now. If my secret service asks any questions tell them you didn't hear anything," Brittany rambled. "But I'll see you at my house after dinner?"

"Sure. Yeah. Of course. See you then." Santana leaned up and gave Brittany a quick peck on the lips.

Brittany hurried off to the hardware store. She carefully examined the selection of hammers. A leering older man approached her. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"I need a hammer with no regrets. One that can smash through childhood memories and laugh. Which one do you think is best for that?" asked Brittany brightly.

The clerk hesitated. "Uh… What?"

"I said, I need a hammer that can smash through child-"

"Yes, I heard you. I think this one here is your best bet," he said, handing her the biggest, most expensive of the four options.

"Thank you," she replied, swinging the hammer experimentally. "I'll need to test it first, okay?" With that, she turned on her heel and left the store, leaving the man too surprised to say anything until she was out the door.

"Hey!" he called, but he didn't follow her out. He shook his head and went back to organizing the painting supplies.

Brittany ran up to her room with the big hammer. She opened her closet and took a piggy bank down from the top shelf. "Sorry, Mister Pickles. We all have to go someday, and your day is today." With that, she swung the hammer down on the pig's head, sending pink shards in every direction. She was sure she heard a terrified oink. "Poor Mister Pickles…"

She pushed all the change away from the piggy carnage. Without thinking about it, she quickly separated the coins by type and made piles of one dollar each, just by glancing at them. With all the pennies, nickels, and a few dimes, she had seven dollars. She scooped it all up and stuffed the coins into her front and back pockets. All this had taken less than a minute. She looked at the broken pieces of Mister Pickles sadly as she picked them up and threw them away.

Back at the hardware store, she found the same clerk from earlier. "This hammer didn't really work for me," she told him. "I mean, technically, it worked, in that I hammered something, which is what a hammer mainly does, but I really needed a remorseless killer and this hammer wasn't up to the job."

The man took the hammer back and grimaced. He thought about telling her she was a complete whack-job, but her blue eyes were so big and her smile so sincere that he couldn't bring himself to say anything at all.

"Can you help me find coloring books and crayons please?" asked Brittany.

"We don't actually sell those here," he said. Seeing Brittany's crestfallen expression, he added, "You can probably get those down the street, at the dollar-or-more store."

"Okay!" Brittany turned to leave again. As she was going out the door, she called, "You should really get some stronger hammers!"

Brittany browsed happily through the coloring book aisle. What would make Santana happiest? Animals? Outer space? Holidays? Puzzles? Then she found the perfect book. She picked up a box of 64 off-brand crayons, and even found some wrapping paper.

...

Santana knocked on the door at seven o'clock. She was cold, tired, and more disappointed than she was willing to admit to herself that Brittany had cancelled their dinner date.

All those feelings evaporated when Brittany opened the door. She was dolled up in a frilly white dress. "Happy birthday, beautiful!" she shouted. She kissed Santana and pulled her inside.

Santana squirmed and looked sheepish. "I thought you forgot…"

"How could I forget that the most amazing lady in the world is sharing her birthday with me?" asked Brittany with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah…" Santana made a dismissive gesture, but her smile was big. "So why aren't we sharing spaghetti and meatballs? We could be meeting in the middle over the same strand of pasta, this very minute."

Now Brittany looked sheepish. "Well, I sort of lost the money I saved up for that. It's a long story, with a dog and a homeless man… and probably a bear."

"It doesn't happen to involve a hammer somehow, does it?" laughed Santana. "Okay, well I guess you don't have to spend a dime to show me a good time. Let's go upstairs." Brittany took her hand and led her up to her bedroom.

"The hammer was what I used to smash through my childhood memories, but it had too many regrets so I had to return it. But I did get you something," Brittany said, pulling out the neatly wrapped gifts from under her bed.

Santana took a moment to figure out what that meant, spotted one shard of broken piggy bank, and took the presents. "You didn't have to kill Mister Pickles for me, you know…"

"No, I did have to. It was his day to die," Brittany replied solemnly. "And it's your day to be born! Seventeen years ago! So open your presents, silly."

Santana smiled, and opened the crayon box first. "Hmm, I wonder what these crayons could be for," she teased before opening the other gift. Even though she'd expected a coloring book, she was surprised to see a glittery pink "Princesses!" book. Still, she smiled, and tried to be nonchalant about wiping away the hint of a tear from her eye. "Thank you so much, Britt." She kissed Brittany deeply.

"Just so you know, I got that one for a reason. It's not because I would like it. It's because YOU are a princess. I know you're all fierce and mean to the outside world, but you're still a princess. I'm the unicorn and you're the princess," explained Brittany.

Santana started to respond, but Brittany shook her head to stop her. Brittany flipped the coloring book to a page that showed a princess sitting with a unicorn, the unicorn's hooves in the princess' lap, the two gazing at one another lovingly. "I know you think you have to protect me because I'm so special and you think I'm delicate. But sometimes I can be the strong one who protects you. That's how it works with princesses and unicorns. We take care of each other."

This time Santana didn't bother trying to hide her teary eyes. She was crying a lot lately, but this was the first time she let Brittany really see it. She collapsed into a hug with Brittany. "Can I put my head in the unicorn's lap?"

"Unicorns don't really have laps," said Brittany matter-of-factly. "But we can pretend." She stroked Santana's dark hair and held her as she cried.

After a few minutes of quiet crying, Santana sat up again. She didn't even wipe away the tears. She smirked at Brittany. "This book isn't going to color itself. So are we going to color these princesses, or what?"


End file.
